


Soho nights

by Kaz_Langston



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Public Sex, Sex Club, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 08:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaz_Langston/pseuds/Kaz_Langston
Summary: They've spent so long trying to hide that it's a relief to finally be watched and not have a care in the world.Or, Aziraphale and Crowley visit a sex club and get it on.





	Soho nights

I want to try something different, Aziraphale had announced. Crowley had assumed he’d meant a new restaurant - Korean, maybe, they’ve not had that in a while. Or perhaps he’d fancied a go at driving the Bentley. Not a chance!

He had not meant a new restaurant. 

He also hadn’t meant that he wanted a go at driving the Bentley.

“A sex club?!” Crowley had choked. “You. Want to - visit a sex club.”

Aziraphale raised a judgmental eyebrow. “Don’t sound so shocked, my dear. I want to show off your clever tongue. Everyone’s having fun at these places, it’s hardly worse than a brothel.”

“Ngk-” said Crowley. 

“And we’ve been in plenty of those.”

Wordless string of syllables.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, I shall just go alone.”

“Nuh - no I didn’t mean that -” 

“Oh good. Friday, then."

Crowley gave up. “Friday.”

*-*-*-*-*

Crowley parked haphazardly outside the bookshop and slithered from the car. Leather trousers miraculously didn’t stick to the leather seat, though they clung close enough to hips and arse and all the rest besides. There were no pockets, and he didn't have any pants on underneath. You could tell.

He didn’t bother knocking on the locked door, and the lack of a response as the bell jingled sent him up the stairs at the back of the shop. 

“Angel?”

“In the bedroom, dear.” The disembodied voice was rather less enthusiastic than Crowley had expected.

When he entered, the first thing he noticed was chaos. Not books - that had been one of his first conditions for sleeping over, no books on the floor where unsuspecting demons might break a toe on them in the middle of the night - but heaps of fabric, piled on the wide bed and the floor and crumpled on the vanity.

The second thing he noticed was a slightly deflated looking angel, gazing unhappily at his reflection in a mirror. He was in something that resembled his usual style, if someone had taken a photo and given him the negative of it; dark grey suit, black waistcoat, white shirt, black bow tie. Monochrome. Shoes polished to a mirror shine. Crowley swallowed at the sight of him. 

Blue eyes rose to meet his, anxiety creasing the angel’s brow.

“I’ve never had to dress up for these things before,” he confessed. “There was never really a dress code in Rome. But they said ‘black’ on their leaflet, so-”

Somehow Crowley had the brain cells free to riposte. “Good little angel, following instructions.”

That earned him a scowl, but not a denial, and a plaintive request. “Crowley, what on Earth do I _ wear _?”

Crowley huffed out a breath. “Angel, you look perfect like that. Just - perfect.”

Pale cheeks pinked up at the compliment, and Aziraphale’s smile warmed him all the way down to his toes.

“Really? But I don’t look like you.”

“This, angel, is a very particular look.” The demon gestured vaguely up and down his own body. Leather trousers, black silk shirt so closely fitted and finely woven you could practically count his ribs - and could certainly count his nipples - through it, flash of red from the neatly tied satin bow just holding the collar together, the loops dangling down his chest. “You look… distinguished. Put together. In control. I look...”

“Like you want to be controlled.” 

"Ngh- yeah- something like that, yeah." 

And god if that smug little smile didn’t go straight to his cock.

Wits half gone, Crowley crossed the room to stand by his angel's side, nudging something - was that a harness?! - out of the way as he walked. They made a handsome pair. Peculiar, perhaps; mismatched; but striking nonetheless. Crowley’s neat heels gave him just a little more height than normal, his thighs taut to support his balance, muscles softly outlined by the leather. Aziraphale’s hair was settled in neat curls; perhaps he’d visited his barbers for the occasion. Crowley inhaled, just a little, picked up the scent of hair product and steel on top of the usual _ summer’s day and tea and heaven _ of him. 

Aziraphale examined himself critically for a moment, then glanced at the demon. A mischievous crinkle around his eyes, he clicked his fingers, and the crisp black bow tie was suddenly a bold and daring red. It matched Crowley’s silly bow perfectly. 

All Crowley could think about was ripping everything off the angel except that bow tie and-

"My dear, if you don't stop that train of thought we'll never get there." Aziraphale chided him mildly.

Crowley started, guiltily meeting knowing eyes and looking away. "Sorry."

An airy wave of a hand had the piles of clothing vanished as if they never were, and Aziraphale held out a magnanimous arm. "Shall we?"

*-*-*-*-*

They didn't bother with the Bentley - after all, it wasn't far, still Soho, just a few streets and a winding alleyway to the surprisingly respectable door.

Aziraphale paid the entrance fee, Crowley draped on his arm like an overpriced designer handbag filled with useless trinkets.

They spilled out together into a darkened room, low music throbbing. Aziraphale led them confidently across the room to claim a seat on a plush armchair - not quite as fancy as Crowley's ridiculous throne, but a good deal more comfortable. 

Crowley looked down at him, slightly bewildered. "Where'm I supposed to sit?"

"I can see two seats from here." 

"Two-? But I want to sit with you!" He was dismayed to find himself wavering between moving away alone to a bench and reaching down a hand to drag the angel with him, and he didn't like the unsettling feeling of uncertainty. Surely Aziraphale couldn't mean for them to sit apart?

"Silly boy, of course you can!" Aziraphale patted his thighs with a welcoming smile. "You can sit on me, or on the floor, I don't mind." 

Oh. That was two seats, Crowley supposed. He thought about his leather trousers, and their complete lack of stretch. Thought about the cold floor. Thought about Aziraphale's wide, warm lap.

No choice at all, really.

He settled himself on Aziraphale, leather clad arse nestling into the angel's crotch with a gratuitous wiggle that bought him an admonishing pat to the thigh. His legs tucked neatly between Aziraphale’s spread knees; arms wrapped around his ribs and soft hands clasped together over the waistband of his trousers. He rested his own hands on top, brushing the pinkie ring, and leant back against the waistcoated belly, letting himself soften into the embrace.

It was nice. Relaxing. Until his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and the shapes around the edges of the room resolved into humans… writhing. 

He was sure Aziraphale felt him tense, as the arms tightened around him and a snub nose tucked itself into the crook of his neck. "Are you alright up there, dear?"

"Mhm." He tried to jiggle a knee but Aziraphale tightened his thighs to clench it still.

"Are you sure? We can always leave. You don't need to safeword, just tell me."

"Yeah, it's fine." Of course it was. Aziraphale was there. "They're very keen, aren't they."

"Keen?" 

"Normally there's a bit more dancing before they get… amorous."

Warm breath huffed laughter in his ear. "I suppose it's not very subtle."

Crowly hissed at him, suddenly offended. "And at least in brothels they do it privately!"

"Well that's half the fun here, isn't it? Watching, I mean. And being watched, I suppose. Ooh, and actually having sex. Oh, that's three halves. Never mind."

Crowley choked into silence. 

They sat for a while, listening to the music - more feeling it, a heavy thrumming bass - and watching. Every now and then Aziraphale would point out a couple, or a group, with joy or admiration in his voice. "Oh look, isn't that just wonderful? You can see how much he likes that. Look, he's going to come from just - oh, lovely." It felt very much like theatre, amateur theatre where the fundamentals were there but it all got a bit messy once the players were into the swing of things, and there was no stage direction but everyone was having fun anyway.

Eventually Crowley became aware of an insistent hardness beneath him.

He squirmed experimentally, and Aziraphale’s cock jumped. He turned his head, letting a lascivious smile spread as he looked down at the angel, going nose to nose with him. "Alright there, angel?"

"Perfectly well, thank you." He stretched up slightly and kissed him sweetly on the nose, before biting gently at the tip of it. Crowley shivered. "I rather fancy a drink, though. Would you mind very much?"

More than half hard himself, Crowley nodded and struggled to his feet, leaving Aziraphale sitting primly in the armchair, perfectly put together as though he didn't have a raging hard on.

When he returned, expensive whiskey in hand, he found Aziraphale had already replaced him. A young woman sat draped over him, short dress riding too high up her thigh to be anything more than an invitation for the broad hand that splayed on her leg, arms twining round the angel's neck. Aziraphale met his eyes without a hint of guilt and took the glass when Crowley held it out to him, mute. "Crowley. This lovely lady has offered to entertain you for a little while." 

She was gorgeous, dark eyes and dark hair and red lips, she'd have no shortage of offers. And the lust pouring off her in waves would normally have been enough for an enthusiastic roll in the hay. But Aziraphale was there, and in that suit, and it really seemed a waste to be looking anywhere else, so he shook his head and declined in a strangled voice. She shrugged, and offered a hand for him to help her up. A small effort had her on her feet, pressed up against him, and she kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be around if you change your mind." She winked and wiggled her fingers at Aziraphale as she left. "Offer's open to you too."

Crowley watched her leave, half wishing he'd asked her to join them, before turning his attention to Aziraphale and dropping his own glass on a nearby table to prop his hands on his hips. "You know she'll be watching everything we do."

A smile crinkled the corners of Aziraphale's eyes. "I'm rather hoping she will." He gestured to the floor between his feet. "Now do be a dear, won't you?"

Crowley's eyebrows shot up behind his sunglasses.

Aziraphale met his gaze with warm, understanding eyes. "We've been so careful for so long, my dear. I just want a chance for us to be seen together. Like this. Please, Crowley. I'd very much like you to suck me off, right here."

Crowley whimpered, and sank to his knees. 

Hands slid reverently up thick thighs to nudge them apart and make space for him. Crowley pressed his cheek against smooth fabric, then turned his face and sank his teeth gently into soft flesh, nibbling his way up; Aziraphale's hand rested in his hair, stroking through the softness, tightening in reprimand when sharp canines nipped a little too hard. Crowley did it twice, just to feel the sting of it.

The third time, Aziraphale tugged him up one handed, pulling him half to standing to whisper in his ear, "Do that again and I'll put you over my knee right here, and you won't come for a week." Crowley let out a muted whine - it was no small threat, and he knew the angel would follow through. 

"Sorry, angel. I'll be good." He tried to look innocent but Aziraphale just raised a skeptical eyebrow and pushed him back down, gently pulling his glasses away and dropping them aside. 

"My beautiful demon." A warm, callused hand caressed his cheek, brushed over his brow, curved around his jaw. "Clever, wonderful Crowley."

Eager now, Crowley framed Aziraphale's cock with long fingers, pulling the fabric taut against it until it strained, obscene. He leant forward, kissing the tip gently, working his way down the shaft with clever lips and gentle teeth until Aziraphale groaned and pressed him closer. "More, Crowley, please."

Zips had been a wonderful invention. Tied breeches had been such a hassle. As it was, clever fingers made quick work of the button at the top, and white teeth snarled to delicately slide the zip down, helped by the swollen flesh beneath surging to be released. He nuzzled close, feeling it throb under his lips, mouthing at the cotton underthings, sucking a little at the growing wet spot on the head. 

'"That's lovely, my dear, it really is, but I don't think our new friend can see very well."

Crowley looked up at him, blue eyes rapt and focused and breathing fast, and smiled. Their watchers could see plenty, it was just his greedy, impatient angel wanting more. He wasn't about to argue.

Hands under wide thighs encouraged Aziraphale to lift his hips, and with with a flurry of fabric the shirt was untucked, trousers and pants around his calves, reddened cock standing proud. 

Crowley closed his naked eyes at the sight of the disheveled angel slumped low in the chair, waistcoat askew, thick cock weeping, before leaning in to drag his tongue in a lewd stripe from root to tip. He could practically feel the eyes of the room on him, and it sent a thrill through him that had him palming at his own cock through the leather.

He licked his lips, wet and pink, then pressed them to the head, opening just wide enough to let Aziraphale's cock press in to tight slick heat. Aziraphale groaned and threw his head back, hands clenching uselessly at the air.

He put his tongue to good use, pressing it to the sensitive underside of the head, drawing back and licking at the slit, pulsing and curling and tasting every inch of him. Gag reflex long trained out of the silly human body, he slurped obscenely at Aziraphale's cock, pulling it deeper, deeper, swallowing convulsively until his nose pressed up against soft pale curls. 

"Fuck! Oh, fuck, Crowley, yes!"

He'd have grinned smugly if his mouth wasn't already stretched wide, instead swallowing and flexing his tongue until the angel was whining, wordlessly squirming, little jerks of his hips drawing pleasure from Crowley's mouth and throat.

He could feel the tension in the knees around his waist, feel the throb as the cock filling his mouth grew impossibly harder, and with every inch of strength remaining pulled back, panting, eyes watering, as Aziraphale cried out in dismay and clutched at him. He caught the hands and held them tightly, pressing gentle kisses to the knuckles. 

He waited until the angel was settled, scowling, before speaking. "Will you fuck me? Here? Fuck me over the chair, with everyone watching. Please, angel."

Aziraphale gaped wordlessly at him for a long moment before surging up and grabbing him in a bruising kiss. When they broke apart he was wild eyed, yanking up his trousers enough to stand, half falling in his urgency.

Crowley bent over, bracing himself on the seat of the chair and letting his head hang low. It took Aziraphale a minute or two - perhaps a small miracle - before the ridiculously tight leather trousers were gone, tossed aside with his shoes and Aziraphale's jacket in a careless heap. The angel's own trousers and pants still lay around his feet, trapped by polished shoes, his shirt and waistcoat framing his cock in an obscene tableau.

Eyes closed, half naked, Crowley waited patiently. Aziraphale never liked to rush this, was always careful, and sure enough a gentle slick finger trailed down between his cheeks, lightly running over his entrance and down to his cock, back up again, maddeningly slow. Up and down, dragging now and then, catching at the knot of him. Once or twice he swapped finger for thumb, wider and rougher, and the thickness of it had Crowley canting his hips back desperately. "Please - angel, please, more -" He couldn't help but beg, long minutes passing with nothing more than gentle brushes.

"Patience." But then that first finger was breeching him, burrowing into welcoming heat, and Crowley hummed his pleasure. Gentle strokes twisted to brush that delicate nub inside with the unerring accuracy of practice, just enough pressure to curl his toes.

A second finger came soon enough, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. He felt himself unravel under Aziraphale's clever hands, one in him and one slickly wrapped around his cock, thrusting forward into one and back against the other until his whole world had narrowed down to nothing but pleasure. 

Eventually Aziraphale paused his movements, waiting for Crowley to shudder to a stop.

The fingers buried in him withdrew, and he tightened around emptiness, before gentle hands spread him wide. Behind him, he heard a happy little sigh. "Oh, Crowley." There was the slick sound of more lube, and then the insistent press of a thick cock at his entrance. 

Slowly, little bucks and jerks of his hips nudging him deeper, Aziraphale sank into welcoming heat and tightness, until he was flush against Crowley's back. Sweat had darkened a patch of his silk shirt, and Aziraphale shoved it up around the demon's shoulders, kissing the bare skin beneath.

With a slow roll of his hips, Aziraphale slid back, then deeper again, rocking in and out in a maddening rhythm that dragged over Crowley's sweet spot, waiting for the tension to trickle from his strong back.

Once Crowley was reduced to wordless moaning, pliant and desperate, Aziraphale tightened his grip on skinny hips and snapped forward, drawing out a cry. He did it again, and again, slowly pull out until he was barely inside and ruthlessly slamming back, until Crowley was sobbing, begging, grasping for his own cock with trembling hands. 

He stopped, then, Crowley still rutting desperately against him until Aziraphale soothed him with a gentle hand on his back. "Don't stop, keep going, don't ssstop-" 

Aziraphale leant forward just enough that Crowley could hear him. "Everyone's watching," he murmured. "Everyone's watching me fuck you, you gorgeous thing, watching you take my cock, my beautiful, wondrous demon."

With a harsh sob Crowley let his head drop, hardly able to bear the words. Aziraphale rocked back in again, sliding deep, drawing a guttural moan from him.

"Look at you, so handsome, so lovely!" 

Hips rolling, he stroked again and again, dragging Crowley back against him and driving him forwards with every thrust, one hand reaching underneath to wrap tightly around Crowley's cock, the other round his thin waist to pull him close.

Underneath him Crowley mewled and sobbed, their watchers almost forgotten in his bliss, until finally he spilled over Aziraphale's hand, clenching tight around him.

A few last unsteady thrusts into wrenching heat and Aziraphale came too, pressing his face to Crowley's back and mouthing words into his skin.

They collapsed slowly, panting, Crowley on the chair with a handful of tissues and Aziraphale on the floor with his messy curls resting on the demon's skinny leg, hand wrapped around a strong calf.

They sat in silence, letting the sounds of the room rush back in, their audience turning to other entertainment. Once their breathing had recovered, Aziraphale spoke. "I rather liked being watched, you know. After all these years being surreptitious."

Crowley huffed out a laugh, serpentine eyes dancing. "Imagine what Gabriel would say if he saw all that!"

Aziraphale swatted at him, half groaning. "Oh Crowley, no! He'd be so horrified!" He descended into giggles, which set Crowley off too, and then they were lying in the middle of a sex club in Soho, shaking with hysterics, and no one gave them a second glance. 


End file.
